


Red Nights, White Blessings

by DustOnBothSides



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Body Horror, Doctor Armitage Hux, Hurt/Comfort, Hux Wants Samples, Injured Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren Has Desserts, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Wants a Hug, M/M, Parasites, Rated For Violence, The Carpenters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-11-25 22:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustOnBothSides/pseuds/DustOnBothSides
Summary: One snowy night Kylo is injured on his way home from work and has to see a doctor.





	1. Of the nights

> It was late when Kylo finally closed the kitchen. Later than usual.
> 
> Being a pastry chef at a fairly decent restaurant, he was the last one to arrive and last one to leave. While the rest of his colleagues went to hit the bar or sing their lungs out at a nearby karaoke club, Kylo was only just packing up and cleaning his part of the kitchen, which was detached from the rest of the food preparation area. 
> 
> Sometimes it made him feel lonely, but most of the time he didn’t mind, or even preferred this state of affairs. He would turn up the volume of his beloved _Carpenters, King Crimson_ or even _the Residents_ and polished, swept and mopped until everything sparkled and shone. Once or twice a week he stayed even longer to pickle quinces or whip up a fresh batch of custard - anything he didn’t manage to do during the day, really. Overtime didn’t bother him, even though it wasn’t paid. He liked staying behind. The kitchen was so peaceful during those times. Occasionally he had a chat with one of the waiters, but generally he was left alone with his music and his desserts. 
> 
> That evening was no different. 
> 
>  
> 
> The sous chef and his team had packed up and left well over two hours ago and Kylo was rather grateful for that. They had another row which had ended with the older man yelling in his face and Kylo smashing one of his prized bottles of artisan beer in a rather glorious cloud of foam and glass shards. He stayed behind after the shift was over and made cardamom and white chocolate pavé, and only really calmed down once he poured the mixture into silicone moulds and placed their trays into the fridge to set. 
> 
> He was surprised to see that it was close to midnight. Going through his fridges, he packed a couple of leftovers that were reaching their zenith in a plastic tub - a slice of lemon meringue tart, a small dish with cherry clafoutis, some custard to be reheated later on, and few pieces of chocolate truffles. He loved eating sweets in the morning just before hitting the gym, loved the heady boost of energy they gave him. 
> 
> With his bag packed, he switched the kitchen lights off and went to the locker room to change out of his whites. Someone drew an unflattering picture of him on the door of his locker with a black marker. Kylo just rolled his eyes. He was aware that sometimes he didn’t act as mature as expected, but _this_ made him feel like he was back at junior high. 
> 
> He was just zipping up his black anorak when the door of the locker room opened and one of the waitresses peered in. Here face fell a little when she noticed that he was already dressed, but it appeared she had other pressing reasons to barge into men’s locker room. 
> 
> “Oy. Ren. Finished listening to _the Carpenters_?”
> 
> “Need anything?” he asked the woman whose name he didn’t bother to remember. As was usual for him. He wasn’t even quite sure what the sous chef’s name was. Was it Patrick? Paul? 
> 
> “They’ve just announced it over the radio. Another Red Night is beginning. Just so you know, since you probably _won’t_ stay behind to wait for a transport like the rest of us normal people.”
> 
> Kylo just shrugged. The waitress narrowed her eyes and left. 
> 
> Red Night. Usually he’d be pretty miffed about, but that evening it presented a neat outlet for his pent-up aggression. He didn’t care for another three months of community service and anger management therapy paid for by his exasperated mother. 
> 
> _“Happy is the way I'm feelin'_  
>  And I know it comes from being with you  
>  All at once my life is changin'  
>  And I know it's cause I'm fallin' in love  
>  With you  
>  Fallin' in love with you…” 
> 
> -Kylo hummed to himself as he opened his locker once more and pulled out an elongated object wrapped in a swath of red fabric. 
> 
> When he uncovered it, he tied both stripes of scarlet-dyed gauze around his gloved hands and forearms. The long iron pipe shone in the cold light of the fluorescent tubes. It had two shorter pieces welded to it to serve as cross-guards and some rubber isolation wrapped around the ‘hilt’ for a better grip. His _weapon of choice._
> 
> Tying his black scarf tightly around the lower half of his face, he left the restaurant and stepped into the cold wind chasing feather-like snowflakes through the narrow back-alley. 
> 
> True to the waitress’s words, red lights shone everywhere. 
> 
> As was mandatory for all establishments during Red Nights, every other colour was turned off. There was not a single yellow, blue or green neon tube of signpost in sight. Traffic died out save for the special reinforced shuttle busses, and the only pedestrians up and about were folks like him. 
> 
> He encountered his first bloaty shortly after he left the restaurant behind. 
> 
> The nematodes seemed to have taken nest mainly within the mucous membranes of that poor bastard. Which was dangerous. Kylo would usually go for the head, but with this kind of infestation the head would explode like a beached whale left too long out in the sun, and cover everyone within reach with inflicted tissue. 
> 
> The bloaty lunged at him clumsily, driven by the nematodes’ urge to spread. His… _its_ fingers opened and closed like the snapping jaws of a rabid dog. Some murky, viscous liquid poured out of its mouth. It resembled the hacked-out phlegm of a chronic bronchitis patient and stank of rot with something acrid within. 
> 
> Kylo soon noticed its eyes were missing, so he grabbed a small bundle out of his fanny pack and threw it in the opposite direction. It was his sweat-sodden shirt from the gym. Bloaty went straight for it as expected. Grabbed it and slobbered all over it as if it was a fine cut of chateaubriand. 
> 
> Kylo shook his head and swung his pipe in a perfect angle to shatter the bloaty’s fifth vertebral column. The human-shaped piece of meat conquered by parasites collapsed on the ground like a sack of wet noodles. The bloaty’s ability to control its limbs was lost, but that didn’t stop it from snapping its jaws, twitching and jerking on the dirty slush-covered ground. Kylo stepped aside and swung his pipe again. The impact of its tip obliterated the medulla oblongata and the bloaty went limp. 
> 
> But that didn’t take care of the nematode problem. 
> 
> Kylo rummaged through the back alley, growing more and more nervous by each moment, until he found _it_. The red cylinder similar a common fire extinguisher. 
> 
> Pictures on it were clear. 
> 
> First panel showed a smiling stick figure holding the cylinder while standing above something which resembled a smiling anthropomorphic caterpillar.
> 
> The next one showed the stick figure, now with goggles on its eyes, pulling on the cylinder’s safety valve. 
> 
> The smiling caterpillar-man on panel number three was being doused by white dots. 
> 
> The last one then depicted the stick figure as it flung a lit match at the caterpillar. 
> 
> Kylo pulled his goggles on. 
> 
> Suddenly a song appeared in his head. Karen Carpenter asked _whether they were really happy with the lonely game they played_. Her voice was like a honeyed tea during dreary cold nights or a pure stream of a river calmly flowing through a summer landscape. 
> 
> He imagined her in a white dress, luminous dark hair flowing in luxurious waves over her shoulders, dark eyes filled with a strangely warm glow. Kylo was suddenly happy that she died. That she didn’t have to witness what the world came to. She was with the angels now, somewhere up there in the immaculate purity of heavens. This thought filled him with sadness so profound, tears sprung up in his eyes even as he covered the body with dozens of nematodes writhing just under the skin in pure white powder. 
> 
> His mind connected it to the purity of Karen’s voice and dress. 
> 
> Yes, the substance was like a blessing sent by her grace. 
> 
> Panel number four. Kylo lit a match and tossed it. Bloaty’s body, covered in white phosphorus, immediately turned into a ball of fire. Kylo thought he could hear the high-pitched tone of broiling nematodes and the wet pop-pop-popping sound of them bursting open. 
> 
> _Oh yeah, the photo, the photo_ , he thought to himself and quickly pulled out his smartphone to snap a picture of the burning corpse which he then sent to the BEN. Reply arrived within few moments. A smiley face showing thumbs-up and next to it an image showing a bag with a 200$ sign. He wanted to feel happy about it, really he did, however that night the welcomed monetary reimbursement seemed to somehow cheapen Karen’s memory.  
>  He returned the cylinder back to its place for future users and set off in the direction of the massive, hive-like habitat block number seventeen, where he lived by himself. 
> 
>  
> 
> Winds blew ever harsher and fluffy snowflakes were replaced by much more compact nuggets of white, which, though far smaller than the initial feathery flakes, were also much more unpleasant. Northern wind whipped them straight in Kylo’s face and several particularly strong gusts had almost blinded him. Bad conditions for a Red Night to happen. Bad indeed. 
> 
> He thought back of the old cabin near Lake Matagamon where he had spent his childhood. How pleasant winters used to be over there. He’d spent lazy afternoons lying in the alcove on top of a moose pelt, wrapped in a quilted blanket, and he’d draw pictures or read stories about heroic knights and their wondrous journeys, while outside myriads of snow-flakes danced above the leaden surface of the lake. Troubles of the outside world he’d sometimes overhear his mother discuss with her friends or saw glimpses of in the telly were no more real than Sir Gawain’s quest to find the Green Knight or the murder of Osiris by his own brother and his wife’s subsequent quest to find all pieces of the body. His imagination had drawn from both worlds whenever he reached for crayons and both worlds were equally easy to hide from by wrapping himself extra-tightly in his blanky. 
> 
> He used to lose himself easily within his daytime fancies as he rode around the house on his wooden horse, swinging the sword Uncle Chewie carved out of wood for him, and wearing the crown he himself made out of quarto paper and some alu-foil. And it was even easier considering how often he had been left alone. His father spent a lot of time hiking with Uncle Chewie and visiting his Abenaki family in their remote village in order to Help Them With Stuff he never wanted to elaborate on, least of all in front of Ben’s mother. 
> 
> As for his mother, Ben had seen even less of her. She explained to him on numerous occasions she was trying to make the world a better place for him and all the other children. This apparently entailed spending hours on meetings which hardly ever ended with any conclusive result, dealing with unpleasant people and being buried under paperwork. His father had always told him it is a Very Important Job and they should cheer on her, but little Ben often secretly cried when she failed to turn up for Thanksgiving, see his _awesome_ Kisosen the Sun-Bringer costume he put together with Uncle Chewie, or when she wasn’t there to help him bury Foxy, the shaggy red hound which had kept Ben company more often than any of the adults. And all those tears eventually turned into something else. 
> 
> By the time he was plucked out of the down-upholstered nest of the cabin, away from the ever-changing waters of the lake, soothing sounds of wildlife, clusters of white cedars which seemingly grew out bare rocks, and the equally exhausting and amazing trips to Katahdin and the Hundred-Mile Wilderness, Ben’s tears ceased to be something natural and became something to be ashamed of. Father had assured him he’d get used to a life in the city in no time. Only Uncle Chewie seemed to know better.
> 
> Hah. Life in a city. How many rectifications followed? Life in this. Life in that. Life _with_ this, life _with_ that. Bodyguards escorting him to school. Boarding school. Weed offered to him before he even turned fifteen. Some classmates selling their nude photos for money. Others encouraging them. His peers laughing at him for getting all excited when describing trips with Uncle Chewie to Howe Peaks. Those kids that got into fights over _god-damn-pogs_.
> 
> Eventually his anger had boiled over as it was meant to. 
> 
> Kylo shook his head. 
> 
> This was all useless now. 
> 
> _What I've got they used to call the blues_  
>  Nothin' is really wrong  
>  Feelin' like I don't belong  
>  Walkin' around  
>  Some kind of lonely clown… 
> 
>  
> 
> Karen always had the best words. Kylo imagined her smiling at him from Heaven - kindly, gently, almost like a mother; while his own mother’s eyes held nothing but sadness, exasperation and resignation whenever she looked at him, the last of which angered Kylo the most. 
> 
> Their last talk had been the most painful one. 
> 
> Kylo had told her he joined the BEN - _Biohazard Extermination Network_. This upset her greatly. Leia was a great proponent of herding the nematode-infected unfortunates into retreats where they’d wait for a cure whose development was on a good way. And it actually _was_ on a good way; but before it could be finished, these unfortunates could infect thousands of others. Killing them was cruel. Kylo was well aware of that. But it was also the only way. 
> 
> His mom always strove for the betterment of the humankind. 
> 
> It was ironic that she shared the same goal as the creator of the nematodes. 
> 
> Elimination of war. Conflict. Suffering. 
> 
>  
> 
> It didn’t take long and Kylo came across another bloaty. This one bounced up at him from under a car. Its joints were all bending the wrong way. It looked more like a crab than human. There were also lesions on its skin, most probably from spending too much time under that car, and its hands and feet were all bereft of any fingernails. 
> 
> Kylo pinned it down with his foot and swung his pipe down. 
> 
> But as he did, something hit him from behind. The weight of a body. 
> 
> He turned around instinctively and struck it down. It was a young woman, dark hair braided in an unusual fashion. Another gust of wind blew. Bits of tightly-packed snow became icy spears. They hurt his eyes. He couldn’t see. Driven by pure instinct, he stomped on the woman’s neck with all his might, crushing her trachea and cervical vertebrae in one swift motion. 
> 
> However as he did so, there was _a movement_. One too swift. He wanted to avoid it, wanted to duck, but the wind… all he managed to do was to shield his face with his forearm. 
> 
> There was a piercing pain in his hand. 
> 
> He knew. 
> 
> That wriggling sensation under his skin. 
> 
> He knew. 
> 
> That feeling of one vein bursting after another. 
> 
> He knew. 
> 
> His life was over. He wondered how his mother would react once she’d receive the news that her son had been killed by one of the bloaties; that he himself _became_ a bloaty before being dispatched by one of his less unfortunate comrades in arms. 
> 
> However somehow his body refused to give up this easily. 
> 
> All these thoughts flashed like a shard of glass through his mind, but before this train of thoughts could properly disappear into the crimson-tinted darkness of the Red Night, his good hand already closed around the nearest suitable object, which happened to be some wood splintered off from a broken pallet. Without allowing himself a second thought, he rammed it through his forearm, just where he could feel that insidious motion. 
> 
> The advancement of that searing, throbbing movement was stopped. But not the motion itself, as he noted even through the wave of the agonising pain which flooded his nerves with red-hot lava. 
> 
> He looked around wildly as he undid the scarlet binder wrapping his good hand with his teeth and tied it as tightly as he could around his forearm, around the stake piercing it, around the worm wriggling madly under his skin. 
> 
> A sudden opening between two curtains of snow showed him two numerals twenty feet tall, painted on the wall of a nearby habitat block. 
> 
> 16
> 
> He was almost home. 
> 
> Then he looked down on his hand and stifled a whimper. 
> 
> This was one of the largest nematodes he’d ever seen. Two feet of its flattish body whipped through the air angrily as it kept trying to get to the _good stuff_. Kylo’s brain. It was such an incomprehensively _alien_ sight, he felt like his blood was freezing. Revulsion crushed his insides. It armoured itself with anger and with hate that made him want to smash that limb, which he begun to view as something foreign and repulsive even though it was still attached to him. 
> 
> It was then when…
> 
> _I know it's an old cliche to say_  
>  I feel I'm gonna die  
>  And I hear it's goin' out to cry  
>  So I'm gonna say some kind words to you  
>  I like to wish you luck & hope 
> 
> Karen’s sweet voice flooded his mind like heavenly manna. He felt it. The urge not to disappoint her. She wouldn’t want him to give up this easily. 
> 
> His legs started to move. 
> 
> He was right in the middle of habitat block sixteen. Seventeen was about a five minute walk away. He broke into a run, keeping close to the unending blocks of flats, crouching slightly. If any other member of BEN would find him, the protocol clearly stated they were allowed to kill him as a potential vector. 
> 
> As he ran, a gust of wind pressed against him in an almost gleeful way. It felt like struggling through a pool of molasses. His legs and face begun to grow numb with cold. Numb and heavy. Nevertheless he used three things to propel him forward. Pain, Karen’s angelic voice and hope. 
> 
> Yes, there was still hope. 
> 
> There it was. 
> 
> 17
> 
> Yes. Finally.
> 
> He found the right entrance and impatiently punched his code in the keyboard - and had to try again as he hit a wrong key. The heavy door groaned open and he slipped in. At the very last moment it seemed like the wind wanted to pull him out in the open, but he came through and almost _fell_ inside. 
> 
> Instead of heading for the lifts, he took the stairs. Stairs which lead underground. 
> 
> There he found a short hallway lined by a threadbare heavy-duty carpet. 
> 
> And a door. A red door. 
> 
> Kylo punched it, too impatient, scared and in too much pain to bother with the doorbell. 
> 
> “…yes?” a curt voice came from the speaker a moment later. 
> 
> “ _Mother Theresa_. This is _Karen_. I need your help.” 
> 
> “Hold on.”
> 
> The next few minutes were some of the longest time periods Kylo had ever experienced. The wriggling under his skin became not quite frantic, but rather _determined_. He could feel the head thrash between his ulna and the radius. Hitting both bones in way which made him clench his teeth as every muscle, every sinew in that arm turned into a string reverberating with many-layered pain. He did his best not to look down. Not to think about what he’d see underneath the binder and the sleeve. His fingers went numb already. Would he lose the hand? Would he lose his whole life? 
> 
> Then there was also the way the nematode’s tail kept flogging around like a pressurized garden hose. It even hit Kylo’s face on several occasions. Every time this happened, Kylo felt like he was going to vomit. 
> 
> At last the door opened. In it stood a man dressed all in white, with blood-red BEN logo printed on his rubber apron. His skin had an unnatural pallor of a cave-dwelling fish and contrasting with it was his copper hair which almost seemed to glow with a light of its own. 
> 
> _Mother Theresa’s_ eyes looked Kylo in the face, then they travelled down to his arm, and then up again. Without showing even a hint of the expected revulsion. 
> 
> “Can you help me, doctor?” Kylo asked as the nematode lodged in his arm whipped his tail back and forth. 
> 
> _Mother Theresa_ shrugged and stepped aside.
> 
> “I’ll try. As long as you leave your shoes by the door. I prefer my floors clean.” 
> 
> Kylo did as he was told.  
>  When he entered _Mother Theresa’s_ quarters, he noticed that the door was reinforced and padded. When it closed shut, some sort of locking mechanism clicked loudly in place. Kylo’s throat went dry. 
> 
> This was the first time he wondered about _Mother Theresa’s_ nature. 
> 
> When he tore himself away from the door, his eyes locked with the gaze of the doctor. Its look was frigid and there was an oddly thin smile on those full lips. It held the sharpness of a freshly sterilised scalpel. 
> 
> “Now don’t you worry, _Karen_. After all, I’m a doctor.” _Mother Theresa_ assured him and flexed his white-gloved fingers. 


	2. Of the blessings

Chapter 2 - Of the blessings

> If there wasn’t a giant nematode stuck in his forearm, Kylo would’ve started to get nervous by now. 
> 
> The room. Everything there was white or at least a very pale shade of blue. The floor was tiled as were the first five feet of the walls. White tiles. For easy clean-up. There were no cheerful photos of flowers or calming landscapes, no corkboards with pictures drawn by kids with no artistic talent and all the enthusiasm. No postcards, no cute calendars. It was nothing like the examination room of Kylo’s actual GP, whose consulting room he associated with afternoon sun, blooming rhododendrons and the scent of bergamot wafting from her favourite cup. 
> 
> _Mother Theresa_ ’s office didn’t even have any windows. 
> 
> Instead of those, its walls were lined by columns of cabinets. Some were full of files, others contained various boxes with the BEN logo printed on them. There were also stainless steel tool-chests with dozens of drawers and cooling cabinets with everything from blood samples to jars of preserved nematodes. 
> 
> Kylo had never been in an examination room which encouraged less trust than _this one_. Then again, his other option was to slit his throat, so it would have to do. 
> 
> _Mother Theresa_ did not ask him anything as he led Kylo to the examination chair. Not about his medical history, not about allergies to any medication he might’ve had. His examination chair resembled those used by dentists except for all those thick leather straps it was equipped with. 
> 
> “For your safety, and mine.” The doctor explained with that sharp smile of his. 
> 
> Kylo realised then what it reminded him of. It was like a sickle sharpened just before the reaping time. 
> 
> “Place your hands over here and try to relax.”
> 
> A white-gloved finger pointed at the armrests.
> 
> “But if I let go of my arm…” Kylo protested weakly, since that’s how he felt. The warmth of the office contrasting so sharply with the blizzard raging outside, his blood loss, the long day at work - all of that sapped so much energy from him, he felt like an empty husk. 
> 
> “Don’t worry. The spike was probably all it took. Relax your hands now and put them on the armrests.”
> 
> Kylo nodded, but it was hard to let go of that inflicted arm of his. Doing so felt like he was parting with it for good. 
> 
> The ginger doctor looked oddly unconcerned by the angrily swishing body of the nematode as he secured one strap after another. Wrists and elbows, ankles and knees… To him it must’ve been nothing but routine. 
> 
> “Just promise me this, doc. If it turns out I didn’t manage to stop it, kill me. Can you do that?”
> 
> “I can.” The doctor nodded, his smile replaced by some kind of solemnity. “I have all the equipment needed to end your life quickly and painlessly.”
> 
> “Good. Quickly is enough though.”
> 
> Kylo thought he glimpsed a strangely searching look in the doctor’s eyes, but he might’ve just imagined that. It was there only for a split of a second after all. Next moment a soft whirr buzzed through the silence of the room and Kylo’s inflicted arm was stretched away from his body. _Mother Theresa_ then pulled a surgical curtain over it, hiding everything below the shoulder from his patient’s view. 
> 
> The thought that the next noise he’d hear would be the buzz of a bone saw chilled Kylo to the core. 
> 
> “Ah… _Mother Theresa_?”
> 
> “Yes?”
> 
> “Can… can you please put some music on? Anything…”
> 
> “…very well.” 
> 
> Kylo heard footsteps disappear into some adjacent room. He couldn’t see where the doc went for by that time even his head was strapped to the chair. A thin band of upholstered leather pressed softly but firmly against his forehead. 
> 
> Few moments later the room was suffused by almost regal-sounding music. 
> 
> _My death is like_  
>  A swinging door  
>  A patient girl  
>  who knows the score.   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Kylo recognised the voice, though he did not know the song in question. It was Scott Walker. It surprised him a bit. He thought everyone listened to Kesha or… stuff… nowadays. 
> 
> The doctor returned and fiddled with something behind the curtain. Kylo could hear the clinking of surgical instruments. Suddenly a thin beam of feeling his mind categorised as ‘pain’ pierced the back of his hand. Then another. Few moments went by and Kylo lost all feeling in the limb. He could feel the doctor doing ‘something’ over there, could feel the arm being shifted, but there was absolutely no pain whatsoever. He felt something in his forearm being pulled apart. Something being separated. A tugging, jerking motion. 
> 
> The smell of blood slowly overpowered the scent of antiseptics. 
> 
> He tried to distract himself by thinking of the years spent by Lake Matagamon. Of the Christmases he had enjoyed there and how magical they were. Those times he went to the local church for midnight mass where he sang carols he knew by heart but wasn’t sure where he learned. The feeling of being sandwiched between people. Between his mother and father, between dad and Uncle Chewie, between Uncle Luke and Uncle Lando. He had felt being cared for. He had felt cherished. 
> 
> He recalled his fishing trips with Uncle Chewie. Once they caught a magnificent trout and as they pulled it out, uncle handed Ben a knife and told him where to strike. 
> 
> He had almost burst into tears back then. 
> 
> Uncle Chewie had put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. 
> 
> _“This is a great truth many close their eyes to._ ” He said. _“For you to survive, another has to die. There is nothing wrong with that. It is the natural order of things. No matter whether we live or die, all together we form an indestructible chain which will lead us to stars one day. Your father has taught me this lesson. So listen, Ben. Listen, you wild child of Penobscot. And hold the knife steady.”_
> 
> Kylo felt tears spring up in his eyes. 
> 
> Being _the wild child_ was the best feeling ever. But once he was moved to a city…
> 
> He became a freak in his classmates’ eyes. 
> 
> Back then he used to do anything in order to make his mother proud. To show his father how strong he was. To show uncle that he wasn’t a waste of time. In the end none of that seemed to hav-
> 
> _!!!_
> 
> Suddenly a wave of pain hit Kylo. It flashed like beam of searing fire from the area of his left shoulder and pierced his brain like an oversized, white hot needle. His back arched and he jerked against his tightly-fitted restraints. For a moment he could do nothing but curl his toes, mouth opened in a shout which had died before it managed to reach his lips. 
> 
> Eventually it ebbed away and he collapsed back onto the chair, the shirt on his back pasted to his skin with sweat. 
> 
> “Are you okay over there?” came a voice from the other side of the curtain. The question was asked in a calm, flat tone as if the questioner wasn’t particularly concerned what kind of answer he’d receive. 
> 
> “Y-yeah…” Kylo replied breathlessly. 
> 
> “Had I warned you, it would’ve hurt all the more.” The doctor said with a hint of reprimand in his voice, as if Kylo’s _yeah_ was actually a hidden reproach. 
> 
> “…what was that?”
> 
> “Bad news. Perhaps.”
> 
> The hot needle of pain was immediately replaced by cold foreboding, by horror. Would… would he end up like his father…?
> 
> _That scene_ flashed before his eyes, uninvited. 
> 
> _Father pushed him away. Away from the lumbering creature’s path. The face of what used to be a man exploded. Nematodes shot out of his mouth, his eyes, nose, ears. All coiled around one-another like thick ropes, covered in blood-coloured slime and brain matter. They latched themselves onto his father just as he pressed the trigger of his Desert Eagle and unloaded six rounds into the thing’s head. There was one last bullet left when the gun fell to the ground. The creature which used to be Ben’s father then turned to Ben. Its face had mercifully ceased to exist. A ball of parasites wriggled and pulsed in its stead. It shambled towards Ben. Ben, whose hands found the Desert Eagle. The Desert Eagle with one last bullet._
> 
> “Am I…?” Kylo managed to croak out as his throat closed, eyes going moist. 
> 
> “I’m not sure. _Had I_ been sure, I would’ve already euthanized you.”
> 
> “Oh. Uhm… fine. Is… is the thing…?”
> 
> “The nematode? Yes, it’s gone.”
> 
> After that _Mother Theresa_ went somewhere and returned shortly afterwards, his footsteps accompanied by the sound of something heavy being moved. The ginger then appeared on Kylo’s side of the curtain with a big, blue bundle in his arms. It was a heavy apron, which he spread over his patient’s shoulder, chest and belly. Kylo recognised it from his dentist’s office, where he had worn a similar garment on few occasions. 
> 
> “X-ray?” he asked and the doctor nodded. 
> 
> “The parasite did quite a number on your forearm; as did that piece of wood. Now hold still.” He said as he fastened the apron and left the room while an unseen machine scanned Kylo arm. 
> 
> Next time he returned, he was followed by the aroma of coffee. Kylo closed his eyes and took in surrounding sounds in an attempt to distract himself from the unpleasant throb of pain. The soft groan of a chair being sat upon, clicks of a mouse, gentle tinkling of a spoon against porcelain, the nigh-inaudible hum of air conditioning. 
> 
> He recalled the doctor’s form. His hands. His _gloved_ hands. Wearing gloves was nothing strange for a doctor, but this one wore actual _leather_ gloves bleached to a snowy whiteness with another layer of silicone pulled over those. As if he never took them off. 
> 
> He had to think of what he knew about the doctor. 
> 
> This was his first visit at _Mother Theresa_ ’s, but he had heard rumours about the man. His nickname had been chosen not by the doctor himself, but by other hunters as a joke. For _Mother Theresa_ was neither merciful, nor gentle, nor kind. The other thing he knew was that the doctor never left the underground shrine of his practise; that he refused to take even a single step out of the door. Kylo had refused to believe that, but seeing the doctor’s unnatural lack of pigmentation seemed to vouch for this theory. 
> 
> But what did he _actually know_ about the man? 
> 
> Nothing. 
> 
> Kylo was not a sociable person. He disliked interacting with most people, even if those people were his fellow hunters. In spite of that he still managed to learn that _Snap_ had that annoying habit of snapping his fingers, that _the Pilot_ was brash and cocky, and had a fondness for flashy moves, that the _Chrome Beetle_ was a lady built like a tank, who also hit like one. 
> 
> “You’re lucky - at least in this regard, that is. Bones aren’t broken, though there was some damage to the periosteum. That’s probably because you’re so well-built. Still, you’ll have to wear a brace for a while; _if_ the other tests turn out negative as well, that is. Who would’ve thought that a hunter called _Karen_ would be so…” he didn’t finish the sentence, chuckling instead. 
> 
> Kylo blushed a little. 
> 
> “I’m going to stitch you up now. Then we’ll continue with more tests.”
> 
> “Doctor?”
> 
> “Yes?” _Mother Theresa_ asked with the slightest hint of surprise in his voice. 
> 
> “What’s your name? It feels kinda silly to call you _Mother Theresa._ ”
> 
> “Does it matter?”
> 
> “…yes. You saved my life - at least so far. I don’t want to use a name others came up with as a joke.”
> 
> Kylo couldn’t explain it. He didn’t like interacting with people. Outside of very few exceptions he disliked them. But there was something about this man which he found… _agreeable._ Perhaps it was the fact that he didn’t try to act nice in order to win anyone’s approval. Or his refreshing pragmatism. 
> 
> “…it’s Hux. Armitage Hux.” The doctor said after a while. 
> 
> “And I’m-“
> 
> “I know who you are.” Hux cut him off. “Ben Solo-Organa, aka Kylo Ren. The son of senator Organa, who-“
> 
> “No.” Kylo cut him off in return. “It’s just Kylo Ren now. The rest doesn’t matter. Surely you’ve read my file. So don’t bring it up again.” He added in a tone tad colder than he intended to use. It had been a couple of years already, but even now the memory of his father still managed to send him to the closest pub to drink himself to oblivion. 
> 
> “Very well. Ren.” 
> 
> “And… please, can you put on some Carpenters?” he asked then with a much weaker voice. 
> 
> Scott Walker was just singing about a soldier who recounted how he had lost his innocence in a mobile army whorehouse. 
> 
> “Very well.”
> 
> A few clicks later Karen started to sing about how rainy days and Mondays always got her down. 
> 
> “Thank you.” Kylo whispered as he felt Hux’s gloved hands grab his arm. It was a strange feeling. He could tell _something_ was being done to the limb, but he couldn’t tell what. 
> 
> “You know, you sure are a strange hunter.” Hux remarked after a while. 
> 
> “Hm? Because of my nickname?”
> 
> “No. You are… quite unlike the others.”
> 
> “In which way?”
> 
> Hux remained silent. 
> 
> “Have you ever wondered what would your parents think of you now?” Kylo asked to fill up the silence. He couldn’t help it. Perhaps something in the stuff Hux had injected him with loosened his tongue. “Since that nematode got into my arm, I can’t stop thinking what my mother would say if I would turn into a bloaty. Would she change her opinions on how to deal with them? …or would she think I had it coming, that I brought this upon myself?”
> 
> “Does it matter?” Hux asked and pushed the curtain aside. 
> 
> Kylo found his arm bandaged from elbow down to the palm. A tourniquet had been fastened under his shoulder and a needle connected the back of his hand to an IV drip. 
> 
> “In this world we’re all on our own.” Hux stated as he removed first the tourniquet, then the IV drip. His face was impassive, but his eyes seemed distant. Kylo could see that clearly when the doctor leaned in to undo the strap securing his head to the chair. 
> 
> “I suppose…” Kylo mumbled. “What other test will you need?”
> 
> “First I’ll need to take blood and tissue samples. Fertilised nematodes sometimes release eggs upon their death.”
> 
> Kylo paled when he heard this. To think he might be full of this sort of… _residue_ , that destroying them might not be the end of them, that he might become a living hatchery for those disgusting monsters… it made him feel nauseous. And angry. Angry at his mother. She only saw _life_. She only saw the _soil,_ not the _plant_.
> 
> Suddenly he imagined somehow returning to her after becoming a bloaty. Imagined her tying him up in some safe place the way Hux had. In another basement. Or an attic, perhaps. He imagined her dutifully visiting him twice a day to feed him through a hole made under his mandible. He could picture her talking to him, recounting various events, or even singing songs even though whatever made Kylo Ren, or Ben Solo-Organa for that matter, had long since vanished. 
> 
> He could describe this scene with only one word. 
> 
> Insanity. 
> 
> Yes. He was convinced that losing him would drive his mother insane. It spoke volumes of how much she loved him. And yet, and yet… 
> 
> Somehow she made her selflessness always seem grander than any love she might’ve had. 
> 
> Unrelated people loved exactly that about her. That selflessness. That sense of justice unswayed by any personal feelings. Her foundations stronger than concrete, stronger than steel, which made her weather any kind of loss, any kind of tragedy. _Our Lady of Steel Beams,_ some had called her with admiration. 
> 
> And this was one of the main reasons why Ben Solo-Organa turned into Kylo Ren. 
> 
> He couldn’t stand her strength, her composure, her acceptance - those things he saw the moment he had woken up in the hospital, knowing all too well it was because of his own foolishness and pig-headedness that his father died. 
> 
> “Ren? Ren, are you still with me?” Hux asked. 
> 
> “Yeah, ‘m fine. You can take those samples.”
> 
> “I already did. You seem quite out of it.”
> 
> “I… thought about my mother.” Kylo admitted. A part of him wanted to spill his guts the way he had never spilled them before, especially to someone who was essentially a stranger. “I imagined returning to her. She’d keep me alive, I’m sure. She would probably tie me to a chair just like this and keep me alive for as long as she could. Even though _I’_ d be all gone by then.”
> 
> Hux didn’t say anything at first. He took a drop of the blood and poured it onto a slide, which he then put under a microscope. 
> 
> “You are a lonely person, aren’t you, Kylo Ren.” He said almost as if he was talking to himself. 
> 
> “Huh? Why?”
> 
> “You think too much.”
> 
> “Don’t _you_ ever think about your parents?” 
> 
> Silence. Hux changed the slide with the blood sample for the one with a piece of Kylo’s tissue and fiddled with the zoom. Kylo started to think Hux didn’t deem it necessary to answer his question. It didn’t bother him much. Not when he noticed how smooth and elegant the curve of the doctor’s nape was. The way Hux leaned over the microscope made it really stand out and Kylo caught himself wishing he could run his fingers over the short hair growing there. He turned his face away, blushing. What on earth came over him?
> 
> “I don’t remember my mother.” Hux said suddenly. “As for my father…”
> 
> He didn’t finish the sentence and walked out of the room. For a brief moment Kylo wondered whether Hux would introduce him to his parent and that idea was so bizarre, he actually chuckled. When the doctor _did_ return, he was still alone but with something heavy in his arms. He stopped next to Kylo, so the lying man could see the object right up close. It was probably _the_ biggest nematode he had ever seen. Its body was oddly bloated and had the colour of a corpse found after several days spent submerged in water. It looked about as thick as Kylo’s wrist and sported distinct ridges along its body as well as a number of short bristles near its buccal cavity. 
> 
> “This is the only piece of father I’ve kept.” he said and the sickle-like smile returned to his lips.
> 
> “…what?”
> 
> “Father got himself infected during the early days of the blight.” The doctor explained as he set the oversized jar on a stool. “He was returning drunk from a meeting with his buddies when the streets turned red, that disgusting sack of fat. I must say that when he attacked me, I didn’t know he became a host at first. I though it’s just one of his… one of those… well, it happened before.” He muttered and turned away as if embarrassed. 
> 
> He moved the jar over on his desktop and took a sip from his mug. His BIG HUG MUG as the letters on its side spelled out. The mug was then placed on top of the jar as Hux leisurely tapped several keys on his computer, clicking here and there. 
> 
> “So you killed him?” Kylo asked, itching to interrupt the silence. There was something utterly disconcerting about a BIG HUG MUG being set on top of the largest, fattest, ugliest parasite he had ever seen. 
> 
> “Killed him? Oh no.” Hux waved his hand. Kylo could hear a smirk in those words. “I kept him alive. For observational purposes.”
> 
> Kylo felt blood leave his face. 
> 
> “Anyways… “The doctor added and spun around on his office chair to face Kylo, who braced himself for another uncomfortable discovery. “-it seems you’re clean.” 
> 
> “…?” 
> 
> The shift in the conversation was too abrupt for Kylo and it took him a little while to process it. 
> 
> “You mean I’m-“
> 
> “So it seems.” Hux shrugged, got up and started to undo the rest of Kylo’s fetters. “Though I have to do one last test, just to check for presence of eggs not evident in blood samples. And for that-“ he said and that sickle-smile split his lips even wider. “I’ll need you to strip. Completely.”
> 
> It was evident that Hux wanted to see him squirm and get all uncomfortable, but Kylo did as he was told without the slightest hesitation, knowing he had nothing to be ashamed of. He worked hard to keep his body in top condition and it showed, and though he wasn’t particularly friendly with anyone at work, he was aware that every now and then some of his colleagues tried to steal _glances_. Usually they shied away when they noticed _he_ noticed, but the reality was, he didn’t mind them looking. The body was an instrument. The body was a reflection. The body was a shell. Neither of these things could be conceivably connected to concepts like _shame_. The very idea always confounded him. 
> 
> He sat down on a nearby bed and watched Hux’s back as the doctor was busy preparing some kind of an instrument. From what Kylo could see, it looked like one of those UV composite curing devices dentists used. It even seemed to have that little polarized plexiglass screen. 
> 
> Hux did some adjustments to it and turned around. 
> 
> And visibly paused. 
> 
> “Is it fine like this, doctor?” Kylo couldn’t help but asking. Hux’s blush-tinged cheeks were quite striking under the cold white light of fluorescent tubes. It felt strangely warming, after the horror of the last few hours. 
> 
> “Er, yes. Yes, this will do just fine.” 
> 
> “What does this do?” he pointed at the device.
> 
> “It’s a lymph node screener. Bloodwork is not one hundred percent accurate, so I’ve developed this to scan for residue toxins.”
> 
> “You’ve _built_ this?” Kylo asked incredulously. 
> 
> “Yes, well, I have plenty of time and the fact that I currently don’t have any patients to treat doesn’t mean I just slack off.”
> 
> “That’s _incredible!_ ” Kylo blurted out. 
> 
> But then he imagined Hux sitting in these sterile rooms and fiddling with gadgets, surrounded by nothing but preserved specimens, drugs, and coffee, which was surely strong enough to melt through the desktop if spilled. 
> 
> “Why don’t you leave your apartment?” he then asked in a much more subdued voice. 
> 
> Hux looked at him and for a moment there was certain bafflement in his eyes. 
> 
> Then he shrugged. 
> 
> “The outside is filled with filth and ignorance. Callous people who think stupidity is funny. Ignorant people who consider cruelty a neat little joke. All of them breathing pollution. They are ingesting it, pumping it through their veins, allowing others to pump them full with it, and, to top it all off, they are _revelling in it_ , as if it was a virtue. Woe to him who disagrees. Woe to us a-“
> 
> Hux didn’t finish his sentence for Kylo grabbed his wrist. 
> 
> He grabbed the doctor’s wrist and before he could ask anything else, he had to marvel at how thin the limb was. He could easily encircle it with his hand. The bones beneath felt fragile, like thin stalactites extending from the ceiling of a yet undiscovered cave. He even saw a sliver of skin above the wrist. Milky pale with bluish veins. He brushed over it with his thumb. 
> 
> Kylo had never felt _attraction_ to another human being. It bothered him to a point that he occasionally felt incomplete and abnormal, but he had accepted this as a part of who he was. However that pale skin - seeing it, _feeling it_ awoke a hitherto unknown feeling within him. Longing. A wish to press his lips against those veins and trace them with his tongue so he could engrave their routes into the memory of both his mind _and_ his body. 
> 
> “Ah… Ren…” Hux spoke up. 
> 
> “O-oh, _I’m so sorry!_ ” Kylo exclaimed, letting go of Hux’s hand as if it was a red-hot piece of iron. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
> 
> “’s fine.”
> 
> “You sure?”
> 
> “Quite so.”
> 
> “So… the lymphatic check…?”
> 
> “Oh yes. Of course. Uh… just… spread your arms out.”
> 
> “Like _this?_ ”
> 
> “Yes, just like that.”
> 
> Hux traced the lymphatic system from tonsils down to thymus gland and then horizontally into each arm. Kylo wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen had he been inflicted, but he took the fact that the machine remained silent as a good sign. And besides, Hux was so close, so very close to him now… he could smell his shampoo, an aftershave, some disinfectant. Hux smelled of myrtle, water lily, and chlorine. Kylo found it such a _pure_ sort of smell…
> 
> “You know…” the doctor said and Kylo was forced to return back to Earth. “…I’m not some poor, traumatised recluse. I just made a decision. I prefer to stay here. It’s peaceful here.” 
> 
> “It suits you. And I don’t think _anyone_ has the nerve to call you names.” Kylo replied and Hux looked at him as if he didn’t expect this sort of answer. 
> 
> The look of surprise was soon replaced by… something hard to read. The blush that had appeared when Hux was busy checking Kylo’s axillary lymph nodes and accidentally brushed against few wiry hairs only deepened now. 
> 
> Once it reached the lumbar area, the screener stopped, hovering near Kylo’s navel. 
> 
> He looked at the doctor, but the ginger was focused on the silent machine. _Overtly so_. 
> 
> “Is something wrong?”
> 
> “No. Of course not. I… need you to spread your legs now. So I can check the pelvic and… i-inguinal area. I could bring you a… uhm… a tea towel or something, if…” Hux offered almost sounding hopeful. 
> 
> “That’s fine. You’re a doctor after all. I trust you.” Kylo said matter-of-factly. 
> 
> He wished Hux would do this check with his own hands. _Barehanded_ , if possible, though those soft leather gloves might’ve felt interesting as well. He knew it was a splendidly bad idea to imagine this, but it happened anyway. Few shards flashed in front of Kylo’s mind’s eye. Hux’s hand touching his pectoral. His fingers squeezing the biceps, feeling how hard the muscle is. Knuckles brushing against the side of his neck. Delicate fingertips sliding down the breastbone only to turn left and dig softly yet insistently between the tenth and eleventh rib in an attempt to feel the spleen. 
> 
> He didn’t want to picture anything else. 
> 
> For the love of God, he hoped any other image would stay locked deep within his mind to be explored only in the privacy of his bed or the shower. 
> 
> _Don’t forget that there’s still a slight chance that you are infected_. A voice in his head sternly reminded him and for once he welcomed its harsh tone, though it wasn’t _quite_ what he wanted. 
> 
> _Only yesterday I was sad and I was lonely_  
>  You showed me the way to leave the past  
>  And all its tears behind me  
>  Tomorrow may be even brighter than today  
>  Since I threw my sadness away  
>  Only yesterday.  
> 
> 
> Yes. Karen always knew how to cheer him up and calm him down and for a moment he was wrapped in her silken voice. He felt like her angelic grace purified him and saturated him with strength and courage he’d never guess he’d find after so many gruelling experiences. Even if he was to die now, he’d die knowing he had the privilege of experiencing her voice. And dying by those delicate, soft hands was most certainly a plus. He could still vividly recall the cruel spark which had glowed in Hux’s eyes as he told Kylo about his father’s unfortunate fate. Kylo knew he should’ve been abhorred, but for reasons unknown it just made his heart beat faster. 
> 
> “Earth to Ren. Ren, are you still with me?” Hux’s voice suddenly came to him. 
> 
> The doctor was there, snapping his fingers in front of Kylo’s eyes.
> 
> “Ah, yes. Sorry. Do you want me in a different position?” Kylo blurted out without thinking. 
> 
> Hux opened his mouth to reply and froze for a moment. 
> 
> “…ah, no. I’m all done. You’re clean.”
> 
> Kylo stared at him.
> 
> “…clean?”
> 
> “Yes. Every test turned out negative and I have the most thorough methods there are.”
> 
> His breath got caught in his chest. 
> 
> Suddenly this whole thing seemed just like a bad dream, nothing more. No one would kill him. No one had to contact his mother and tell her his last wish was to have _the Carpenters_ play during his undoubtedly lonely funeral. 
> 
> “…clean.” He breathed out and the surge of joy and relief which had flooded him was so strong, it washed everything else away. 
> 
> He grabbed Hux by his thin shoulders and pulled the white-clad angel to his chest. Hux’s breath hitched. This close Kylo could even smell the oh-so faint ghost of his sweat. It smelled like life. This was the most beautiful scent in the world. Brown eyes looked into blue and saw surprise and thrill. 
> 
> “Thank you, doctor. You’re my angel.” Kylo whispered and pulled closer. 
> 
> Hux’s lips parted and just before Kylo pressed his own against them, his tongue darted out to lick a wet trail across the doctor’s lower lip. The subsequent moan was muffled by the kiss, which went on and on and on. 
> 
> “What are you doing? You aren’t even clothed.” Hux whispered when they parted. His cheeks were redder than ever before and lips were plush and moist. 
> 
> “I’m not clothed? That means we’re halfway there.”
> 
> “You almost died tonight; and you wish to lie with me?”
> 
> Kylo had to chuckle. He brushed his thumb against Hux’s cheekbone, making the man look up. 
> 
> “I’m sure there were dozens of books written about this phenomenon. _And_ I want to _make love_ with you.”
> 
> “This is an extremely bad way to start a relationship.”
> 
> “I wouldn’t know. You are the first one I ever wanted to be with. You are smart. Courageous. Amazing. And just too handsome to bear.” 
> 
> With each compliment Hux’s blush turned a deeper shade of red. He refused to look Kylo in the eyes. It was as if no one had ever complimented the man before. 
> 
> “A-anyways, you are much too exhausted to have-… to try to-… I mean…” Hux stuttered in the most adorable way. When Kylo petted his head, he almost seemed ready to run away. 
> 
> “You’re a doctor, doctor. I’m sure you have a medicine.” 
> 
> “But… why?”
> 
> “No one else has ever managed to make me forget so thoroughly about this disgusting world we live in and its worms. There’s something special about you. You’re special. To me. You ought to be special to the whole world, but at least to me you are. And if you doubt me - you know where I live. Poison my meal, my water, my air. If you’ll ever think I’ve betrayed you, cut me apart and store me in your jars so I’ll stay by your side forever.”
> 
> This time it was Hux who initiated the kiss. There was a kind of ferocity in the way he grasped Ren’s shoulders that wasn’t there before.
> 
> “…perhaps this world isn’t as rotten as we were lead to think.” He sighed as he buried his fingers in Kylo’s hair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone for the lovely comments and kudos. This was meant to be the last chapter, but I've decided to write another one. One with less plot and more of _other_ stuff.
> 
> This AU is a joy to write, and it also makes me a little bit nostalgic, since I myself grew up in an Eastern European housing estate. I liked it there. The ambience of those places is something special.

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will have much more Hux.  
> I hope y'all have enjoyed reading this chapter. I sure enjoyed writing it. Kudos and comments will be much appreciated.


End file.
